


Claimed

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Abortion, Age Difference, Backstory, Blood, Boarding School, Body Modification, Caning, Coming of Age, Control Issues, Disability, Dom/sub, Don't Have to Know Canon, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, Knifeplay, Libraries, Magic, Masochism, Master/Servant, Older Man/Younger Woman, Porn With Plot, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Scarification, Scars, Shadow Plane, Suicide, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhappy Ending, Vaginal Sex, Worldbuilding, fagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liird's master claimed her three times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed

Liird's master claimed her three times. 

The first time, she was one of seven senior pupils at the Hlath clan's academy. They were summoned unexpectedly to the central chamber, placed in a line, and told to keep silent unless spoken to. Then she saw him for the first time. He was tall, slim to the point of fragility, and she could not tell his age, except that it must be old. His hair was the white of bleached bone, and his skin was unusually pale, a grey so light it was nearly pearlescent, and decorated with elegant scars. His eyes were sharp and black against the pallor of his skin, and they swept slowly over the assembled students.

"They are all begun their training," Mistress Sornyra told him, unusually deferential. The mistress was never deferential except to very important visitors. "Any of them would be a suitable choice, but if you wish a recommendation..." This talk of choices made Liird even more nervous.

"I am capable of making my own decisions. You," he said abruptly, stopping in front of her. Liird looked up, surprised that he had spoken directly to her. "Have you mastered the introductory spells?"

"Yes," she said, for it was true. 

"Show me," he said, holding her gaze, and she felt her stomach tremble. Pushing her fear aside and concentrating her focus, Liird spoke the incantation to lift a small stone from the cavern floor to her waiting hand. She then drew power into it, making it glow brightly enough to cast tall shadows on the walls. She hesitated for a moment, considering what else she might do that would suitably demonstrate her (as yet meagre) abilities, then threw the stone up high into the air, murmuring the words of a spell as she did so. It fell slowly to the floor, drifting lightly like a feather, and came to rest silently, without so much as stirring dust. 

Then, looking up, she met his eyes and whispered, using the last of her magical energy to ensure that only he would hear, "I can do all of this and more, Master. I will do anything you wish." She used the term of respect because, even though she did not know his name, she could sense that he must be someone of importance, and did not wish to offend.

A slight frown creased his face, and he spoke back to her in the same fashion. "Child, you are audacious, and do not listen. You were told to speak only when spoken to." She knew then that she had gone too far with her final spell, displeasing him with her boldness, and her heart sank as he moved on down the line, asking her peers to demonstrate their abilities as well. Mistress Sornyra glared at her, and Liird knew that she could probably expect a beating later on. 

When the unknown visitor had completed his appraisal, he departed with the mistress once more, leaving the students alone to gossip.

"He's got to be an emissary from another clan," Arra said, giggling, "and he wants to choose a breeding partner - maybe for one of their melath's sons." Arra was a flighty girl, most of whose thoughts seemed to revolve around breeding.

Jhan scoffed, crossing his arms. "He's not looking for a mate, stupid, he's looking for an apprentice. If he wanted breeders, why'd they tell me and Bryn to be here?"

Arra bristled, as did her best friend Yma, out of loyalty. "They could be looking for sires too," she said defensively. 

Liird thought this highly unlikely - they were all very young still, and negotiations between clans over important breeding unions would surely be conducted at much higher levels, between melaths, or at least their immediate subordinates. For a man, even such a senior one, to be involved would be peculiar, at the very least. Jhan's theory seemed the more likely to her - a master wizard might well seek an apprentice from the Hlath clan, who were known for cultivating their skill in magic.

Conversation was curtailed as they were summoned for their closing meal. Under the watchful eyes of their instructors, they knew better than to speculate about such matters, confining themselves to safer topics - the food, their studies. Liird found she had little appetite. At the end of the meal, Mistress Sornyra returned, looking cross. "Liird zau Hlath," she said, speaking formally, "come with me at once." Liird jumped to follow her out of the dining chamber, keeping the proper respectful distance between them as they proceeded to the mistress's office.

"You spoke out of turn, Liird," Mistress Sornyra told her sternly. "Even if you did it without words."

"I know, Mistress. I beg forgiveness." Liird kept her eyes lowered, but she could see that the mistress was fetching her cane. Forgiveness would not be forthcoming, then - it rarely was. She wondered where she would be beaten, and whether the marks would be visible to the others.

"Remove your robe, and hold your ankles." Liird could feel a light breeze on her skin as she slipped out of her robe and did as she was bidden, presenting her backside to the mistress's gaze.

The swish of the cane split the air, and then connected with the tender flesh on the back of her thighs. The mistress's strokes were controlled, and Liird knew that if she wished to break skin, she could easily do so. This time, the beating was meant only as a reminder to keep Liird in her place. She kept silent through the dozen strokes that her mistress layered across her buttocks and thighs, trembling only slightly towards the end when the pain grew more intense. She waited, breathless, to see if there would be more, but Mistress Sornyra was walking away. "Stand and clothe yourself, girl," she said, sitting down, a little breathless herself from her exertions.

Liird retrieved her robe and slipped it back over her head. She expected she would be dismissed to think about what she had done, but instead Mistress Sornyra eyed her up and down. "You are a disobedient girl, Liird."

"Yes, Mistress," she murmured.

"I told our visitor as much, but he, for reasons that escape me, seems to think that you would make a suitable apprentice for him."

Liird looked up, startled. She had been so sure that she had angered him! "I... thank you, Mistress."

"There is little to thank me for, it was not my doing, although perhaps my training will serve you well," Sornyra said with a sigh. "You may instead thank him, when you'll be departing from the Hlath olvir to accompany him to his home. I am told it is a lovely place, a tower north of here, near the ocean."

"Leave the olvir?" Liird had never been away from home for any length of time - the idea was simultaneously frightening and exhilarating. "Will I have a chance to say farewell to my friends? My mother?"

Sornyra shook her head. "You will bid farewell to the other girls before sleep, if you wish, but your new master wishes to leave upon waking. There will not be time for your mother to return, not with the Irrdin'errin in session." Liird's mother assisted their clan's representative to the council, a position of great prestige. "You may write to her to inform her of the honour that has been bestowed upon you. I am sure that Nilurra would be proud of you, daughter." Her voice trembled slightly, but she kept herself under control. "Now, back to the dormitories, and pack only what you will need - your spellbook, clothing - you should wear your best gown for him tomorrow, Liird, when you meet him in the entry-hall just past waking-time. And... give your respect to him. Learn from him, and obey him always."

"I will, Mistress," Liird promised. She turned to go, but hesitated. "Mistress…?"

"Yes, what is it?" snapped her teacher. 

"What is the name of my new master?"

"Ah, yes. Adrezej do Baru ki Sabaltyr. He is a wizard of great skill - if you can gain but a fraction of his learning, you will be an asset to our clan indeed." 

Liird nodded, and hurried back to the dormitories. Adrezej do Baru - his very name spoke of discovering hidden paths and ancient secrets. None of the other girls were asleep yet - the lua-moss still shone brightly enough to light the rooms where they had rolled out their beds and sat about talking, brushing each others' hair, and playing the games girls play before sleep.

Ethe, Liird's ylene, bounded over to her immediately. The younger girl was pewter-haired and plump and cheerful. "Did she beat you? Let me see! Does it hurt? I have the cream if you want some..."

Liird had to smile. "In a moment, Ethe dearest. There is something I have to tell you first." She took her hands. "I will be leaving when we wake."

Ethe's face fell, and all the other girls in the dormitory turned to listen. "Leaving?" Arra laughed scornfully. "Have they finally had enough and decided to kick you out?"

"No," Liird said, unable to resist gloating a little. "Jhan was right. The man who came to see us was a great wizard, and he wants me to become his apprentice."

"You?" Arra seemed unable to comprehend how this could be possible. "But... why you?"

Liird wasn't sure, but was unwilling to let Arra see that. "Because of my skill, of course."

"Your skill at cocksucking?" Yma teased. "Because I heard from the boys that you'll do it for anyone."

Liird ignored her jealousy. "I need you to help me pack, Ethe."

Ethe's eyes were filled with tears. "But... you'll be back, won't you?"

"I don't know," she told her honestly. "Eventually, I hope."

Ethe flung her dimpled arms around Liird's slender shoulders. "What will I do without you, though?"

"Shh," Liird murmured, stroking her back. "Soon enough they'll give you an ylene of your own, and she'll take such good care of you, you'll barely miss me."

Arra laughed again, but most of the other girls had the grace to look away, trying to imagine being pulled so abruptly away from their own ylenes and everything else they had ever known. Liird held on tightly to the girl who had served her faithfully for so long. "Come," she told Ethe, who was still sniffling. "Pack my things for me, and I'll tell you about where I'm going." She lay down on her stomach, favouring her sore backside, and spun a story for Ethe about the tower by the sea and the powerful wizard who lived there. By the time they had both finished, most of the girls were abed. Some were still whispering to their friends, while one pair were playing games of piercing that would normally have drawn Liird's attention, but right now she only wanted Ethe's comfort.

"Do you still want to rub the cream on my wounds?" she asked, knowing that it was one of Ethe's favourite duties. The younger girl smiled and nodded, and so Liird drew off her robe - it would have to be packed in any case, if she was to wear her best gown when she left - and lay back down on her belly on the firm, grass-stuffed mattress.

Ethe's hands were gentle upon her legs and ass, and the herbal cream would eventually soothe the lingering sting of the wounds, but it was still uncomfortable. Liird winced, relaxing into the pain. Ethe had tended to her after so many beatings that it was second nature. Her fingers kneaded Liird's tense muscles, pressing carefully on the welts and bruises that the mistress's cane had raised, just the way Liird liked. Reliving the sensations later was one of the best parts of being beaten, she believed.

"More?" Ethe asked her, but her fingers were already sliding along the crease of Liird's bottom, dipping between her legs. Liird spread them for her, giving her easier access, and Ethe understood that as agreement. Liird was already slick, in truth had been since the stranger's eyes had met hers, and the beating from her mistress had only increased her arousal. Ethe's skilled fingers completed the task assigned to them easily, seeking out her swollen clit to stroke it quickly. Liird lifted her hips, letting her ylene's hand move beneath her, feeling the girl's feather-light kisses on her back, the press of her body against the aching welts, blending pain and pleasure. Liird gasped, her face buried in her mattress to stifle her cry, and Ethe stayed inside her until she had stopped shaking.

Liird rolled over at last, taking Ethe in her embrace. The girl's head nestled so naturally in the curve of her arm, it made her wistful before she had even left. "I want to please you too," she told her, and smiled to see Ethe's eyes widen. She kissed her lips, unlacing the ties of her robe, then pushing it open to reveal breasts already larger than her own. Ethe was no longer a little girl, and it was no lie that soon enough she would have an ylene of her own, even if Liird were not leaving - the time was ripe. Liird moved down to lick those growing breasts, sucking each ebony nipple in turn, drawing them into hardness.

Ethe squirmed beneath her, wriggling her robe the rest of the way off, and whispered her eagerness to Liird's ears, which were burning, just as the rest of her face seemed to be. She was wet and open for Liird's fingers, although she had still not known a man and so Liird hesitated to enter her. Instead she stroked the hard little bud that she knew would give Ethe the sweetest pleasure. Her servant gasped when she pressed down harder on her clit, and her hips bucked involuntarily. Liird sucked harder on the nipple nearest her mouth, rubbing Ethe more quickly as her desire grew. "Oh, Liird," she gasped, "thank you, oh, ohhh!" Her legs stiffened as she shuddered in her release, clutching Liird to her breasts. They curled close together for sleep afterwards, as they usually did, but Liird found little rest.

Before Ethe awoke at the rising-time, Liird untangled her arms from around her, put on her favourite gown, a sheer silk robe that left her arms and back bare, and slipped away. She had no wish for tearful goodbyes. She took her chest - it was heavy, but she did not own so many things that it was impossible for her to carry - and left the dormitory.

At the academy's entry-hall, she waited for some time among those coming and going before Mistress Sornyra appeared with the stranger at her side. "Travel safely, child of the Hlath" she told Liird, who made a respectful obeisance of farewell. Adrezej do Baru remained silent, but gestured for Liird to come to him, so she did so, lugging her chest along with her awkwardly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, light but firm, and she felt a surge of pride and excitement as they vanished together.

The air where they arrived was chill, the calls of the skuas and, somewhere nearby, waves on the shore the only sound, in contrast to the near-constant background noise of the clan-olvir. Adrezej kept his hand upon her for a moment longer before releasing her. "This is your new home," he told her, and she nodded, uncertain whether she was permitted to speak or not. He must have sensed her hesitation, for he looked down at her, black eyes bright. "Ask me your questions, girl, or this will be of little use to either of us."

Liird swallowed, but met his steady gaze. "What should I call you? Master?"

"That will do for now," he agreed. "With time, you may earn the privilege of names."

"Where are we, master?"

"My tower, which is north of Qiluness, on the coast."

"You don't live with your clan?" she asked, mildly shocked. She had heard there were such people, but it still seemed eccentric, verging on dangerous to her. 

"I find it quite impossible to work with so many people about," he replied calmly. "Even one will be a difficult adjustment. You will learn when I am not to be disturbed."

"Yes, master." She bit her lip, considering whether she ought to ask another question, then decided to risk it. "Master, why did you choose me?"

He smiled, thin-lipped. "Because you were clever, and had not had all of the boldness beaten out of you yet." He craned his neck slightly, eyeing her backside, still criss-crossed with welts visible through the translucent fabric of her gown. "Although your former mistress did indicate that you would surely require regular punishments, and cautioned me against selecting you on those grounds."

Liird blushed, slate-grey beneath his gaze. "I will do my best to obey you, Master. I don't wish to make you punish me."

To her surprise, he laughed, a brief, sharp sound. "Make me? Child, if you earn punishment, then it will come to you, but not in the form you are accustomed to." He took her chin in his hand, tipping her face up. "Beatings are not a reprimand here. Pain is not a tool to be used so... crudely."

She did not understand in that moment what he meant - that would only come with time.

***

Her studies began almost immediately. She would work under her master's direction, then be given a book to read while he undertook his own research, then prepare a light meal for them both, then perhaps an excursion to gather supplies (seaweed from the beach for the fire, or fish from the nearest village) or a session of practicing her spells, more reading, and then sleep, only to wake and repeat the process again. At first, the assistance she gave him in the laboratory was simple: fetch the powdered silver, grind the herbs into a paste, locate a certain scroll. She soon learned that when she failed him, he punished her with silence and solitude. She came to dread the words, "Return to your room and consider your error." It made her more frustrated and angry with herself than any of the corporal punishment Mistress Sornyra had ever given her, and as a consequence she never made the same mistake twice.

It was some time, however, before she impressed him sufficiently to earn a reward. It was not that he was impossible to please, but he demanded more than just competence from her. He would give her a "well done, girl," if she had exceeded his expectations, and even that much praise made her glow with pride, but for a true reward, she had to surpass them by far. 

"You see, master," she told him, "this passage has been mistranscribed – the hand is a difficult one. It should read 'eighteen leansaf leaves without stems' – this is why the spell failed before."

Her master looked at her with an expression she found difficult to parse. "This is very good work, girl," he said at last. "I must have misread that when copying the book. Very good indeed." 

"Thank you, master." Liird felt as though she might burst into flames from the heat in her face. He had never praised her so effusively before. But there was more yet to come.

"Finish copying the spell," he told her, "and then join me in my chamber for your reward." She had never been invited to his private room before, and had no idea what to expect. Her nervousness made her hand shake as she finished writing out the ancient words, but she managed to still them as she made her way to the room at the top of the tower.

It was a beautiful chamber, she thought, though plain and windowless. The smooth, uninterrupted curves of its walls made one feel surrounded, safe, like being inside an eggshell. Her master was waiting for her, beside his bed, which was evidently a permanent feature of the room, not just a mattress spread out when it was time to sleep. It had a sturdy metal frame, a thick mattress, and a heavy black blanket spread atop it. She was more curious, however, about the flat, lacquered box he held in his hands.

"Your mistress at the olvir told me you would be a difficult student," he said. "But I think perhaps the trouble was that she did not understand you."

Liird looked down, uncertain. "Perhaps, master."

"Her punishments... they only made you want more, didn't they." 

Blushing, Liird did not know what to say. No one, apart from Ethe, had ever guessed her love of pain. "Yes, master," she whispered.

"Good girl, being honest," he said with a hint of a smile. "Here, pain is your reward, not your punishment. Serve me well, study hard, and I will give you what you desire. Disrobe to the waist and lie on your back on the mattress." 

She was surprised by the abrupt orders, but Liird unlaced the neck of her gown and tugged it down to her hips, then crept over to the high bed to recline on it, trembling slightly with nervousness and anticipation. The blanket was rough, and prickled the bare skin of her back, but she did not complain. She folded her hands over her stomach, then put them to her sides, clenched, uncertain what to do with them or what was expected of her.

Her master had turned away, not so much as sparing a glance for her exposed breasts, and placed the box down on a nearby table. She heard the click of its clasps opening, and wondered what it might contain. He dragged over a stool to sit beside her, and she heard him stifle a sigh as he crouched down. Perhaps his joints were stiff, or perhaps it was something else. He extended his hand so that she could see what it held - a slender blade, razor-sharp. 

"I am going to put a mark on you, girl," he told her. "It will hurt, but you must keep still, very still, or the blade could cut too deep, and neither of us want that."

She nodded, wordless, her wide eyes unable to leave the knife.

"Here," he said, seeing her gaze. "This is the dull side," and he pressed it lightly against the skin of her upper arm. It was chill and she gasped, her muscles twitching involuntarily away from it. "Stop that," he told her firmly but gently. "Control yourself, stay very still, and I will make you beautiful."

"Beautiful like your scars," Liird said shyly. 

"Yes, like mine," he agreed. He turned the blade against her skin so that the flat was pressing on her now, warming to her body temperature, no longer so surprising as to make her jump.

"Can I touch them?" she asked, emboldened by his answer. "I want to know what they feel like…"

"No," he told her sternly, but then seemed to soften slightly. "Not now, at any rate. Now you are learning about what it feels like to receive them." He moved his hand in a single smooth motion, and she wondered what he had done. She looked down at her arm and saw black blood welling up. The cut was so skilful, the blade so sharp, that she felt nothing apart from surprise at first. He waited, watching her face, until the pain hit her with a sudden burn, and her mouth opened wide, gasping for air. "Brave girl," he told her, and the praise made her whimper more than the pain. He moved his hand again, and this time she watched as he carved a second line into her flesh to match the first one. Seeing it happen seemed to make the pain more immediate, and this time she moaned while the knife was still being drawn across her skin. Her legs twitched with the effort of holding still, but she kept her arm steady.

Her master glanced down at her trembling legs. "You've moved the tension down your body, I see. That is a good technique, one that took me some cycles to master." She tried to imagine him naked and bloodstained on a bed, legs jerking as he struggled to keep still, but could not manage to visualize who might be cutting him. And yet clearly someone had, as covered as he was with scars. She pushed the thought away as he began to carve again, and she had to close her eyes to keep from crying. 

He worked swiftly, or so it felt to her. Within a few more moments, he was rising to his feet, looking down at her. "You're doing well so far," he told her as he wiped off the blade, and she wondered what more was to come. He returned to where he had laid the box, and took out a small clay jar with a wide mouth. When he removed the stopper, she could smell something sharp, astringent. "This will make sure they heal well, but not too well. It will raise your scars to make sure they can be seen - and felt," he added almost as an afterthought. The paste was thick and creamy as he spread it over her wounds, but it stung too, nearly as badly as being cut had. 

When he finished anointing her, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then, awkwardly, stroked her forehead with his clean hand, brushing back the thin strands of hair plastered to her brow by sweat, smoothing the lingering tension away. "Very good, Liird," he murmured, and then turned away, finishing cleaning up. Tears seeped out from under her lids, but she would have been hard pressed to explain them - not tears of sorrow or even of pain, but tears of benediction and release. 

"You may remain here until you feel ready to resume your work," he told her from the door, and then left her alone. She realized only after he was gone that he had called her by her name. 

With no ylene to tend to her, she wrapped her wounds carefully, using the bandages he had left waiting on the table beside the box. She eyed it warily, then flipped open the clasp to open it. She found herself admiring the rows of knives there - blades of all different shapes and sizes, from broad, chisel-like tools that would take off large sheets of skin, down to others as fine as needles. She tried to imagine what each one might feel like, running her fingers over the well-worn handles. Her pulse fluttered and she became aware of the warmth spreading through her body, a new excitement that would need to be stilled before she could concentrate on work again. 

She slipped out of her robe entirely and lay back on her master's bed, spreading her legs, feeling anxious in case he returned and at the same time even more aroused at the thought, at imagining what he might say or do if he found her like this... Moving her arm to pleasure herself hurt too much, tugging on the newly-forming scabs, so she used her other hand, which felt foreign, and it took longer than usual until she came, shuddering all over and gasping, and then longer still before she could dress and compose herself well enough to descend the stairs to her work once more. 

And it was not until some time later, once the healing had begun, that she was able to see what he had carved into her - eighteen leansaf leaves, coiling down her outer arm. Without stems.

***

Liird earned many more scars at her master's hands as she advanced in her studies. Still, it was a considerable time before she was able to make him understand that she wanted more from him than his knives. The first time she tried to touch him during a cutting session, he jerked away from her so quickly that his knife slipped, leaving an awkward line in the careful pattern he had been creating across her collarbones. "No paste this time," he said, frowning - at her, or at himself? "It's not good enough to keep."

She felt ashamed, but also angry with him for his lapse of control. "No," she said, surprising them both, "I want to keep it. To remember."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. It will serve as a reminder to us both." He helped her to apply the paste and bandages, then turned to leave her, as he usually did, and Liird found suddenly that she did not want him to go. 

"Stay with me," she said, surprised when the words came out more as an order than a request. He raised one eyebrow quizzically, but returned to her side, taking his seat once more. 

She sat up on the bed, facing him. "I wanted to ... talk to you." 

He looked wary, but inclined his head slightly, giving her tacit permission to speak.

"Your scars," she began. "Who gave them to you?"

"You think they are all from one person?" he replied dismissively.

"Well, who gave you your first, then?"

"My mistress. Her name was Malidyn li Nhortyl." _Oracle with the Concealed Blade_ , Liird understood the chosen name to mean, and felt it was probably appropriate for this woman she had never met, but who had left her marks so clearly on her master's body. 

"Will you show me the first one she gave you?" 

He paused, and she wondered if she had trespassed too far on his goodwill, but then he pushed up a sleeve of his robe to show her a spiraling scar at the inner crook of his arm. It was worn down and softened with time, but still clear, even against his oddly pale skin. She reached over to trace the pattern with the tip of one finger, and this time he did not flinch away, but let her touch him. She thought she even felt his pulse quicken before she drew back.

"Did you love her?" she asked shyly.

He frowned, as if uncertain how to answer that. "I respected her," he said at last. "She taught me a great deal. But I also hated her, especially at first. I hated the pain."

"Then why did you let her do it?"

He shook his head. "It was not a question of 'letting'. And in time, I learned to tolerate it, for..." He stopped, cutting off whatever he had been about to say, but Liird's curiosity was whetted.

"For what?"

"For what would follow," he finished grudgingly. 

Liird's brow furrowed. "What was that?"

"You cannot be so innocent as that, girl. For the pleasures of the flesh that she could give... or rather, would allow me to take, once she'd had her way."

"It must have been awful!" she said, sympathetic, and was startled when he gave a brief, harsh laugh. 

"Somehow I was able to bear it." His voice was dry. "I was very young, after all, and young people can be supremely adaptable. And in time, I grew to expect one to follow the other, to mingle the two things in my desire."

"But no one cuts you now." Liird would have known, surely, if he had visitors here, but there had been none since she had arrived.

"No, not recently." 

She took his hand again, stretching out his arm and caressing the marks there with her fingers. "Do you wish someone would?" she asked, looking up at him with every measure of seductiveness she could muster.

He did not smile at her, but looked her steadily in the eyes. "I understand that you want more from me, Liird. It has been evident for some time. But it would be unfair to you, in many ways."

"How?" she persisted. 

"I am too old," he told her patiently. "I am set in my ways, and my work is more important to me than any lover could ever be. I will never be a mate to you, never give you children, never join with your clan."

"I don't want any of that!" she almost shouted, startled by her own vehemence. "I just want you, even if it's only a little - whatever you can give me, it's enough."

"You think that now," he said. "But you are young, and your feelings will change like the wind. You desire me now because I am your master, and because your heart was made to surrender to whoever controls you. It's not love, Liird. It's a desire to please your master combined with youthful lust for the only person within reach. I know, I remember it well."

She threw his hand down angrily. "It's not like that! You never made me want you, you never even looked at me like I was anything other than your pupil. It's my decision. Mine alone. Maybe she used you, mixed up your feelings for her, but it's not the same with me!"

He sighed. "Isn't it? I recognized your hidden desires and I met them, even if I never meddled with you further. Of course you would come to want more from me. I should have known, should have stamped this out much earlier."

"You wanted me here," she frowned. "You picked me out of all the others because you saw something in me that you wanted."

"Your mind," he told her. "Your skill. Nothing more."

"No?" She challenged him, meeting his dark eyes. "Never anything more? Not because you saw that I would submit to you the way you wanted without losing my own will in the process? That I was young and malleable and that I would be entirely yours? That I would take the pain you wanted to give and plead for more?" She took his hand once more and pulled it sharply to her bared breast, pressing it into her yielding flesh, just below where he had so recently cut her. "You wanted to give me pain. You can't deny that. It wasn't just as a reward for me. You wanted this too. Well, now you can just... just deal with the consequences!" She half-shouted the last words, rising from the bed until she was no more than a hand's breadth from his face. She stood there panting for a moment, and then her lips were against his. She could never have said, later, if she moved first or he did, she only knew that they were kissing, that his arm was around her, holding her close to him, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest.

"No. I will not impose myself on you," he said abruptly when he drew back. "You are my apprentice - your job is to study and learn, and you please me very well that way already. I can master any other desires I might feel." He touched her brow gently, stroking fine strands of hair away from her face. "You don't need to do this, Liird."

"But I want to," she insisted, gripping the silk of his robe tightly, as if she feared he might escape, even though he had not risen from his seat. "I want to show you... I don't know how else to convince you that I want this, I want you." Her voice rose as she grew more insistent, more agitated, but she quieted when she saw him frown.

"Be silent, girl," he ordered, and she fell still immediately, knowing in despair that she must have crossed a line and now he would leave her, or maybe even send her away in disgrace. Her clan would refuse to accept her back, and she would be alone, forever...

"Please," she whimpered, not even sure what she was asking for, but he cut her off with a sharp look. 

"Your gown," he told her. "Remove it fully." Liird blinked away tears and did as she was told, pushing the fabric over her hips so that it slid to the floor. She had never been completely naked before him, and she could feel his eyes travelling over her from head to toe. "Pick it up and fold it properly, girl - you'll have no new one to replace it if it's ruined," he added sternly, and she hastened to do so. "Now, place yourself face down upon the bed."

Liird lay down, her face against the rough black blanket, her fresh wounds smarting. She held her breath, wondering if she was to be punished before she remembered that her master never punished her with pain, only with solitude and the lack of his attention. That he was still here, still speaking to her, even if his words were curt, must mean she had not truly done wrong. She could not see what he was doing, and did not want to risk turning her head to look, but she heard the sound of his robes whispering as he moved. Then the weight shifted on the bed as he sat down beside her. His hand rested at the back of her neck, light but firm. "I see now that I've been too cruel to you," he spoke more softly. "Awakening your desires and leaving them unsettled, unsated. You've been very patient with me up until now. I should have anticipated this. I was a fool." As he spoke, he stroked slowly down her back, soothing and comforting, until she could have wept.

The bed shifted again then, as the weight of his hand on the small of her back became heavier, pressing her down against the mattress. The pressure calmed her - she no longer felt panicked at the thought that he might leave, or make her leave him. He would take care of her, and she found she could breathe again. But when his hand slid lower, along the smooth curve of her arse, she shivered, not with fear but with a new excitement. He parted her legs firmly, and she moved willingly at his touch, resisting the urge to squirm like a little girl.

She had lain with boys before, back at the academy, but they had been inexperienced, as young as her, and their touches now seemed too rough and clumsy in comparison with her master's smooth efficiency as he teased her inner lips open. His touch found her already wet and eager, and she did squirm then, unable to help herself, as he slid a single finger inside her. "More," she begged, but she heard his tongue click in mild disapproval.

"Not too quickly, girl," he said. "The young are always so impatient."

"I'm sorry, master..." Her words dissolved into an incoherent moan as he added a second finger. 

"There is a time for everything. You'll learn."

"Yes, master." She pushed back against his fingers, and could hear the faint hint of a smile in his voice.

"Terribly impatient," he murmured again, but he also knelt between her legs, lifting her hips off the mattress to pull them back against himself, so that she could feel his arousal pressing against her through silk. 

"You _do_ want it too!" She felt vindicated. 

"Yes," he told her, still fingering her. 

"Can I... turn over?" she asked, almost shy. "I want to see you." 

"Impertinent too. But this time... perhaps I can allow it. Very well." He drew back from her, allowing her to roll onto her back. She found herself gazing up at him, was surprised to see that he had removed his robe, leaving him in a simple pair of drawers that, she couldn't help but notice, tented slightly at the front. His body was paler than hers, almost white, thin to the point of haggardness - she could have counted each of his ribs - and decorated copiously with scars that flowed around him and enveloped him in their tendrils. She had enough familiarity with scars now to judge that his had been done by a variety of hands, but the majority were created by someone with a great deal of skill. _Malidyn_ , she thought, admiring the work of a woman she had never met, who might even be long-dead, but whose marks lived on. She thought again of her master as he must once have been, young and trembling under the knife, and reached out to run her hand over the delicate tracery on his chest, down to the waist of his drawers, then over them. He permitted her to touch him only for a short time before taking her by the wrist.

"You look beautiful," she told him, meaning it with every fibre of her being. He made no reply, but kissed the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, his lips touching the point where her pulse raced. "Please," she begged, "more..."

"Always more," he whispered, and Liird wondered if it was a reprimand for her greediness or a promise. Then he made her stop wondering, indeed stop thinking of anything at all except his hands on her, his mouth, the ripples and eddies of his skin against her fingers, the smarting sting of his soft touch on her fresh wounds, the exquisite, aching fullness of his body inside her. He was not frantic or hurried like the boys she had known before; there was no pounding or hammering of hips against her. Instead he moved slowly, smoothly, without obvious urgency, gradually bringing her to a steady simmer rather than a boil. She wasn't sure how long she could withstand this treatment, but she sensed there would be no rushing him now that he had begun.

The only sound was their breathing and the thundering of her blood in her ears. She writhed beneath her master, struggling between her impulse to obey his will and her need for release. Her knuckles whitened, clenching at his arms, and he sucked in a breath as her nails dug into his meagre flesh. Liird tightened her legs around him, drawing him deeper in, trying to seize as much of him as she was able. His fingers bit into her in return, a reminder that his control was greater than her own, that he was the one in charge of their pace, and that she would have to follow him. She understood all of this without the need for words, and tried to force herself to settle once more, to be patient under his will.

The tension in her body was so strong, however, that she began to tremble uncontrollably, her legs shaking nearly as badly as they had done the first time he had cut her. She realized what that meant only a few moments before her climax overwhelmed her, surprising her with its seeming suddenness even though in truth it had been building for a very long time. She thought she screamed, but couldn't be sure if any sound had come out or not, only that her throat was raw and dry, her lungs unable to get enough air. Her master held her close, stroking her hair while she gasped and then wept with fulfillment, keeping himself steady atop her, within her, until she was reduced to an occasional whimper.

Her memories of what followed blurred, so that later she could no longer recall how long it might have taken or what he said to her - only the tight, hard muscles of his back beneath her fingers and the soft murmur of his voice were real. She watched his face, distorted by her tears as if through a layer of water, and heard the sudden sharp gasp when he finally allowed himself release. When he slid off her at last she felt suddenly, terrifyingly light, as if she might float away, and she clung to him desperately. He laughed, but just softly, and held her until she slept. When she woke he was gone, yet she did not feel alone, because she knew that now she was fully his.

***

Adrezej allowed Liird to come to his chambers often after that, and eventually he even permitted her to use the knives on him occasionally, but still he kept certain things private. She knew, for instance, that he took certain medicines for pain, for she sometimes prepared them for him. He would ask for them especially before the storms that would rage in from the sea. Sometimes his joints would stiffen uncontrollably and he would want nothing more than for her to rub his hands and wrists with oils infused with herbs. But he told her nothing of what ailed him; she knew only what she was able to determine with her own powers of observation.

Sometimes, too, he would leave her for short spans of time, going to the city for unspecified research. She knew better than to inquire into his private dealings, and had no reason to think it was anything more - she detected no tell-tale scents or marks from other lovers, for instance, not that she would have been in a position to object if she did.

She, however, had few if any secrets from him. He seemed able to read her body like a book, to detect instantly what she was thinking or feeling. So it was that, after the dhantui trees had grown an arm's span or more, he asked whether she was not hungry as she sat and picked at her fish. Liird shrugged. Her appetite was gone, she said, and the smell of the fish made her queasy, which it had never done before. "You're probably with child," he told her calmly. "We will discuss it after you've rested."

Liird could not believe him at first, for she had taken all the appropriate precautions to prevent pregnancy, but thinking on it further as she lay abed, it seemed it must be so. She rested one hand on her belly and imagined what it would be like, a child of his, clever and pale-skinned and beautiful. She found no rest, but rose before the lua-moss had faded into darkness and sought Adrezej in his chambers.

He was seated, reading a scroll, working still. "I wish to discuss it now," she told him, and he looked up, startled.

"Very well," he said, recovering from his momentary surprise, and gesturing for her to sit with him. "You know that I cannot have a child here. The distraction would be unacceptable, the potential risks too great."

Liird frowned. "What am I to do, then?"

"It is your choice," he said. "You can return to your clan and bear and raise the child there, at least until it passes nursling and can go to the olvir. I would release you from your obligations to me if that was your wish, and perhaps you could return when the child was old enough to do without you."

"So long away!" Liird exclaimed, distraught. "Away from my studies, away from you..." 

He shrugged. "You are young and bright, you could quickly regain any ground you might lose in your studies."

"What about you, though? You would..." She hesitated, not wanting to ask if he would miss her in case the answer was not what she wanted to hear. "You would need another assistant," she finished lamely.

"I have survived for most of my life without one, I think I could manage," he said dryly, but patted her hand to show he was not cross with her. 

Liird squeezed his hand back, tight. "If I did this... would you give me more children eventually, and join my clan when we were thirded?"

"No," he told her, more gently. "It could never be, Liird. I am too old, too set in my ways. I have told you before that I would not be a good mate for you, nor a good father for your child. You know this is truth."

"I don't!" she insisted, stubborn, holding back her tears. "You _would_ be a good mate, I know it."

He shook his head. "No," he said again, "I would not. I tried it in my youth, and I failed, badly. I would not put you through such shame."

"If I don't wish to leave you... then what should I do?" Liird asked, voice trembling.

"I cannot tell you," he replied. "It has to be your own choice. You have studied the herbals long enough, you know what your options are."

Liird nodded, once, then jumped up and ran from the room so he would not see her crying. He did not pursue her, but let her go. She went to the workroom and pulled down jars from the shelves, looking at them - the price for remaining with her master. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her still-unformed child, to herself, as she began to mix the necessary herbs. 

She remained in her chambers the length of two sleeps after she took the bitter potion, and Adrezej did not disturb her for her normal tasks. When she finally emerged, pale and drawn, he did not ask her what she had done - he knew already, as he always seemed to. He gave her a mild broth to drink and stroked her tangled hair.

"Did I do the right thing?" she asked him at last, her voice hollow. "Was this what you wanted?"

"I want you to be happy," he told her, sounding almost taken aback. "If this is what will make you happy, then it was the right choice. I'll try to be worthy of it."

She didn't understand, but nodded, and then wept against his shoulder as if her heart would break. He held her, stiffly but with as much tenderness as he possessed, as she sobbed. When it was over, she felt empty, blank - but ready to begin anew. They did not speak of the incident again.

***

Cycles passed, tides turned, and they grew older together - Liird passing into adulthood, Adrezej into elderhood. His pains grew worse, and eventually his hands began to shake, so that he refused to use the knife on her any longer because he feared he would cut her badly, messily or too deep. He used her as his hands in their work - she thought of it as _their_ work now, for she did more than her share of it - for those times when careful control was needed, the control he no longer had. It frustrated him, she could tell, and he grew cross more easily when he could not manage spells he had once been able to cast perfectly, or read his own shaky writing, or even eat his soup without spilling it.

Liird tried different combinations of herbs and oils, but to little benefit. He might improve for a short time, but then the tremors would grow worse again, and the aches in his joints more fierce. "Maybe," she said at last, "if I went to the Great Library, maybe there I could find a remedy that would help."

Adrezej's brow furrowed. "A long journey," he said, "since you cannot teleport there." He left unsaid the fact that he could no longer safely make the journey by magic himself, with his hands so unsteady.

"I would do it gladly, master," she told him, "if there was a chance it could help you."

He looked down, studying his trembling hands. "Very well, Liird," he said at last. "If Rhyl uss Qu'rret still works there, ask to speak to him. He knows me, so tell him you're my apprentice - if there's anything there to find, he'll help you find it."

"I will," she promised. "I'll come back as soon as I can. You'll be all right without me for a little while, won't you?"

"Of course," he said, smiling to reassure her. "I won't try any difficult spells while you're gone, I think, but I can manage to keep myself fed and clothed at the very least."

Liird kissed him affectionately and went to prepare for her journey. It would take six turns of the tide to get there on foot, and the same to return, and she had no idea how long her research would take while she was there, so she did not wish to delay any more than she had to. She made sure that there was plenty of food ready, so that Adrezej could eat without having to do much cooking, and brought in far too much dried seaweed for the fire, in case the weather turned cold, and then she packed her bags. "I won't be gone long," she told him before she left, as much to comfort herself as him. She had not travelled further than the nearby village on her own before, and was nervous, but tried not to show it.

"Go safely, Liird," he said, patting her cheek, where he had carved his last mark on her some time before, a curling wave. "And if you find once you're there that you cannot bear to return to this solitary study and a cantankerous old man, I'll quite understand. The Library often has that effect on scholars of your talent, sucking them in."

She laughed. "As if I could ever leave you," she told him. She hesitated a brief moment only before adding, "I love you, Adrezej."

"And I will always wonder why," he said fondly. "But thank you. Go on now, girl, on your way. You know the road." 

Liird looked back often as she left, and each time she saw him standing at the door of the tower, a gaunt figure, white as the stone. She lifted her hand to him before she passed around the first bend in the road, but she never knew if he saw it or not, only that he remained standing there until she was out of sight.

The Great Library was dazzling, as he had told her it would be. She sought out Rhyl uss Qu'rret, a librarian who turned out to be most helpful once he learned her master's identity. "It's been some time since he came to study here, is he well?" he asked as he brought her various books and scrolls for her examination.

She hesitated, knowing that Adrezej would not like her to reveal his illness to others. "He's fine," she replied with a smile, "just very busy. Easier to send me to do his research now."

"A fortunate scholar, to have such a dedicated assistant," he said, smiling back at her. He was handsome, she thought, not so striking as her master but much younger, not so painfully thin, and he had a nice smile, accentuated by the pair of close-fitting silver rings through his lower lip. She wondered momentarily what it would feel like to kiss those rings. Then she felt a little guilty for even entertaining such a thought, and returned with greater urgency to her reading. She pored over tome after tome, trying to find descriptions of herbs or solutions that might help him, copying down anything that seemed like it might be worth a try. She could have kept reading for cycle after cycle, there was so much information to absorb, but she grew more anxious the longer she was away. Finally she gathered what notes she had together and, thanking Rhyl profusely for his assistance, began the journey home. 

The tower was dark when she rounded the bend and was able to glimpse it on the horizon. He must be sleeping, she thought, and hurried so that she might be there when he woke, to surprise him. She came into the kitchen and found the fire was out, the ashes cold. That worried her, and she rushed up to his chambers to make sure he was well, that he had not fallen or been too ill to get down the stairs.

They were empty. So was the laboratory, and the storerooms, and everywhere else. All that remained was a note, which she found in her own chamber, the last place she looked. It lay on top of his box of knives, which sat, unexpectedly, on the chest beside her rolled mattress. His handwriting was jagged, tremulous, and she had to fetch fresh lua-moss so that she could read it. 

_My Liird,_

_I am sorry to have deceived you like this, but I could not bear to go knowing that you would remain behind, alone and worried for me. I hope that you enjoyed the Great Library, and that you found some interesting things there, but I know that you will not have found a cure. I know because I looked myself, on those several occasions when I did not take you with me into the city. Everything I have read tells me that this sickness will only grow worse, until finally I can no longer walk, or talk, or do anything that matters to me. You would become a nursemaid, not a scholar, and you deserve better. Before that happens, I will take matters into my own hands, while they are still strong enough to do this final thing._

_You will be angry with me, perhaps, but then I have so often deserved your anger and so rarely received it, so perhaps you will be able to forgive me after all. You have made me happy ever since I brought you here, and these last few cycles have only been bearable because of you - otherwise I would have done this long before._

_I leave you everything in this tower - sell it or use it as you wish, it makes no matter to me anymore. But I do hope you will keep the best of the books, and the knives. And one other thing I can offer you - it is past time you took your adult name, and I offer you the use of mine, if you can find it within yourself not to despise it. I would have liked to have been able to give you more, but it could not be. I hope now you understand why, or will come to understand in time._

_You will not find my shell, and I beg you not to look for it - I have filled my pockets with stones so that it will sink and be consumed under the waves. Let me find my rest there, and live your life - whatever path you may choose is now open to you. I am proud of you, my darling, and I know you will go on to great things now that you are free from me._

Liird could barely read the last words through the tears that streamed down her face, following the paths of the lines that he had left there. She crumpled the letter in her hands, dropped it to the floor and went to the window, opening it to let in the sharp breeze off the ocean. A storm would be coming soon, the waves were high, and he was lying cold somewhere under them, and she was left alone with nothing but a box of knives and a dead man's name for comfort.

She returned to sit on her bed, flipping open the lid of the case and looking at its well-used contents. She knew which one she should choose - the heaviest blade would cut most readily, with the least pressure from her hand, and would hurt the least as it emptied her veins. But instead she found herself picking up a slender, razor-sharp knife, delicate, a knife for fine details. She drove it into the back of her hand, twisting it hard enough that she almost fainted, gouging out a deep crescent in her flesh. When she could breathe again, she pulled the blade free, dropping it to the floor. The scar that would remain would be ugly, but it was what she wanted to remember this ugly moment, the moment when she decided that she could live without him after all.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


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